


The Unknown Hostage

by MrsAcceptance



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Captive, F/M, Kidnapped, Kidnapping, Mystery, hostage, kidnap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsAcceptance/pseuds/MrsAcceptance
Summary: Who was this hostage they kept captive? No one would tell her; not even him.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)





	1. Prologue

He could hear her footsteps near his prison; much tenser than normal.

For a moment, she let the silence speak for her. It prompted him to smile blindly, considering he had been blindfolded for the past two weeks.

"Good afternoon, angel." The man greeted affably, leaning back against the chair he was tied to.

She opened her mouth, the parting of her lips seeking only to find the words appropriate in this situation.

Her jaw clicked shut. She didn't understand what was going on. First, her boyfriend fooled her into thinking this was going to be some romantic getaway. The next, his three friends were joining him; with an apparent hostage.

She felt frustrated. No one was telling her the truth, not even the curly-headed man chained to the metal chair in front of her.

"Who are you?" She skipped their normal greeting.

He hummed in response, his deep British-tenor purr driving her inner voice with far more questions than answers. Like, how did a British man get abducted by three of the stupidest morons on the face of the planet?

"I'm Harry, luv. I thought we established –"

"Shut up! You know what the fuck I mean; quit playing the idiot, I know better." She snapped, wanting answers. Lord knows she wasn't going to get any from the boys upstairs.

Harry sighed, his head blindly turning in the direction her voice resonated from.

"Who do you want me to be, petal? I've been told I'm many things. Yet, that's the million-dollar query to all this, isn't it? Who am I? What am I?" He chuckled, finding their conversation enlightening. "Perhaps, you should wonder what your friends want me for."

Ang approached his chair, slipping to kneel down beside the bound man, looking up into the covering of his eyes.

"I'm wondering what's going on, that's all. Emory tried to put a bullet in your head once already. Andre, well, he likes to beat the shit out of you for no reason and Dante seems to have found God, considering I've not seen that boy pray since he broke his father's truck window when he was ten."

Harry's smile widened.

"Adorable, but hardly my concern. It doesn't matter in the bigger picture. I am simply, arbitrary. The person who holds me, decides my value. Your friends; boyfriend, they have all the answers to your questions." He sang, a tease infused with his irritating song.

It upset the girl, because Harry had the answers too. He was just being stubborn.

"Cut the bullshit! So, do you!" Ang cried, touching his knee.

Harry tensed; his attention caught to her. He wished he could see the girl behind the pretty voice, but he hadn't even had a chance to see his other captors.

"I don't, actually." Harry pursed his lips, tensing his wrists against the rope tied behind his back. He wished they had left his feet unrestrained from the chair, unfortunately; he knew the men weren't going to take any chances with him. They hadn't when transporting him to their current location.

"You know something." Ang insisted pressing down on his limb, showing her desperateness.

Harry snorted.

"I know many somethings, angel. Regretfully, I am just as clueless as you in these matters." He shrugged.

"I don't believe you." Ang retorted disbelievingly.

Harry dismissed her accusation calmly, deciding to change subjects.

"Alright," He smiled. "So, what's for lunch today? I'm thinking something other than soup."

Silence.

Then, her hand fell off his knee. He heard her stand, letting out a breath of air.

Harry heard her footsteps walk a few feet to where he knew a grand piano sat. He assumed this place wasn't just a basement, considering there was carpet beneath him and a piano off to the side for entertainment.

Ang sat down at the piano bench, positioning her fingers to home. It was the only thing now that could calm her. The elegance of each key, harmonizing with the next.

Harry loved to listen to her play, especially since that's all he had for enjoyment.

The bottom floor had about ten metal steps up to the top floor. On ground level, it was very simple. An octagon structure with open space. Blue carpet lined the bottom beneath, with white blinding walls complimenting the rest of the interior.

Harry sat on the left side of the room in a metal chair next to a single bare mattress. A reward he got to use, when he wasn't being constantly tortured.

At least it wasn't stained.

The other side of the wide-open space, had only a white grand piano, a ceiling fan directly over it with four light fixtures and a brown leather couch facing it across the room. Ang had slept on it a few times during her time there.

Not because she wanted to, but because the girl had made the boys upstairs paranoid.

"You play beautifully, luv. Did you know, I've been told I'm a bit of a musician myself?" Harry offered, shifting in his chair. "Perhaps I can show you one of these times."

Her fingers slammed down hard on the keys in a harsh clang.

"Tell me who the fuck you are! Why are my boyfriend's friends keeping you constricted to a chair in a rented cabin?! My boyfriend of eight years refuses to tell me, you have answers; yet, won't explain. I want to know! I'm involved, you all forced me into this! This was supposed to be a romantic weekend." Ang complained, seeking some sort of reveal. She hated not knowing what she was entangled in.

Harry closed his mouth. That was a disappointment, though not unsurprising.

"Tell me, or I'm done."

Harry turned blindly to face the wall at her threat. He wasn't about to involve her anymore than she already was.

A heartbeat of tension, followed by her feet gliding toward the stairs.

"Fine. No lunch, no supper. No nothing from me until you guys all get your heads out of your asses. I'm DONE. They can make their own damn food, I ain't ya'll's mother." He southern twang shining through, making Harry enjoy the small rant.

"Try to have a better day, angel." Harry bid the girl gently, hearing her stomp up the stairs to go start an argument with the other men.

One he was pretty sure was going to end her down in the basement again, until she calmed down.

"You all are absolute assholes!" Harry could hear her from where he sat. He chuckled, because he called that one from a mile away.

"Ang –" Emory began.

"NO! You WILL tell me what's going on. For the past two weeks, we've had a British asshat as a permanent houseguest! No one will tell me what's going on, so, until you all do; no sex for you – "She cut off, directing that to her boyfriend Hunter, for emphasis. "The rest of you can cook, clean and tend to YOUR hostage. I am no longer involve. You hear me? I'M DONE!"

Harry heard silence follow her rage, then a door slam from somewhere upstairs.

He swallowed, knowing those men weren't exactly attentive in their care. They would strip him naked when he needed a shower, cuff his hands behind him to the bar inside the shower and scrub him down.

It wasn't exactly an easy feat to overcome, but Harry had nothing left to be modest about anymore. He accepted the way things were.

His last shower was yesterday. They hadn't dressed him before throwing him back down in the basement. The only thing they had done, which was performed while he was unconscious; was change out the leather blindfold he was wearing.

Thankfully, when he woke up that morning, clothes were placed back on his body. Harry had a feeling he'd have to thank Ang for that.

Simple stretch pants, God only knew what color and a loose-fitting button-down shirt.

If he had been able to see, he would have grimaced.

Gray stretch pants and a baby blue button down wasn't exactly a match made in heaven.

His ears perked up, his jawline gritting against his upper jaw intently.

The sound of descending footsteps on the steps wasn't amiss. He knew they'd come down.

"Back in the days of pirates, mates; they say to bring a woman aboard was catastrophic luck. Did you think involving her would change that? You will eventually have to either tell her or kill her. There's nothing in between." Harry hummed, enjoying their annoyance.

"Shut the fuck up!" Hunter snarled, not liking the fact the younger man was bringing up murder. That was his girlfriend. Her job was to help them, not ask questions.

Sadly, a woman always did have deeper curiosities than a man. Ang wasn't much different.

"We all know what happens when we involve outsiders. I didn't tell her anything. However, she's a smart lass. Ang will figure it out, eventually. Perhaps think on that, lads." Harry warned with a cat-like smile.

"Gag him. His muzzle should be on the bed where Ang took it off." Emory dismissed, displeased this had gotten so out of hand.

"Yes, because civil conversation is overrated." Harry came back bitterly, pursing his lips. He was getting tired of being muzzled. It wasn't a regular gag. It was a hard knob attached to a platelet that they forced into his mouth. The straps fixed like a collar to his neck, encasing around his head on both sides of his mouth, leading a secure lead up the top of his head and down to the center where multiple buckles were.

Once the straps were secured, a padlock could be fitted in the center to prevent anyone without a key from taking it off. Harry hated the thing, especially since the leather strips pressed his blindfold in uncomfortably.

He heard one of the men retrieve the gag. Harry locked his jaw shut. If they were going to shut him up, they were damn well going to earn his cooperation.

The man with the muzzle tried to force the knob in. When that didn't work, his hand went around Harry's throat, slowly adding pressure.

"Don't crush his windpipe. We need him alive a few more weeks." Emory growled, seeing the hostage's skin start turning red around his face. He wasn't giving in without a fight.

The man trying to pry his mouth open growled, punching Harry in the face.

Emory stopped Hunter from laying into him, choosing instead to take a needle from his pocket.

Ketamine.

He stabbed the needle into their hostage's neck, taking gratification in the shock that befell the slightly younger man's face.

"Sweet dreams, Harry." Emory smirked, patting the side of their hostage's cheek patronizingly.

The rubber knot slipped in easily. Hunter made quick work to getting Harry's muzzle buckled secure. Locking it with a long padlock to ensure their hostage wouldn't be slipping from his silenced state for a while.

Harry felt his head dip tiredly onto his chest. He was exhausted; if he didn't think he'd have a chance, the man would have given up his first week.

Still, he believed Ang might be a key player to the game. She was more open to helping him then anyone else. If he could get her involved, without directly getting her involved – that would make it a hell of a lot easier.

"Hunter? Go get your girlfriend, she stays down here until further notice. I won't have this falling apart; I can't afford to." Emory growled, noticing Harry's muscles relaxed against the ropes against his chest. He had finally fallen unconscious.

"She's in our room. I can talk to her, just give me a chance." Hunter begged, his honeydew browns looking desperately into cold cerulean.

Emory was beautiful. The typical creamy white skin, blue eyes, blonde haired beauty from next door. An all-American boy, raised mainly on the East Coast. He escaped from there as soon as he was able to the West.

He was slim compared to Hunter. The two weighed about fifty pounds apart. He didn't have a six pack, but he did lift weights. He reached 6'1, an inch shorter than Harry.

Hunter was 6'3, thickly built with a six pack, helpful for when they had to deal with their hostage. He was average looking, considering Emory had the girls flocking to him with the Prince Charming haircut.

His opposite, had a shaved head. Not at all interested in attracting the ladies. He had Ang; he didn't need anyone else.

Andre wasn't anything you would notice at first glance. Long mousy black hair, gray eyes, 5'8, thinly built – he wasn't all that helpful when it came to being useful. He washed Harry off when they threw him in the shower. That's about the extent in care, other than occasionally giving him water.

Dante could pass for Emory's brother. The two shared similar appearances. The only difference was the height. He was only 5'6. The shortest of the men, along with the sharpest jaw. He was refined. Built modest with good posture, he had little trouble in helping to keep the boy they possessed under their thumbs.

"She's had too many chances already. We do this my way." Emory huffed, turning to go get Ang himself, since it was obvious Hunter wouldn't.

"You know why I brought her! She found out about the cabin, you told me no loose ends. So, romantic getaway for six." Hunter drawled sarcastically, watching Emory go upstairs to get his girlfriend.

He followed his friend, heading toward the door once he made it up to the first floor. Hunter refused to listen to his girlfriend's pleas. He hated everything she had gone through thus far.

It was his fault, but it didn't make it any less difficult.

Harry was right; Ang would figure out why they abducted him. If she did, they might have no choice but to kill her.

Swallowing thickly, he could hear her from inside, she was screaming desperately for him. Unfortunately, Emory had hold of the situation. Hunter wasn't going to step out of line. Not for Ang and not for Harry.


	2. Chapter 1: Past+ Present

"Are you sure? It's been quiet lately." Harry murmured, flinching at the cigarette smoke being blown in no certain direction.

Annoyingly, it happens to hit him in the face. He hated the smell, let alone the after remanence of its taste being forced down his own esophagus.

"Too quiet, H. You got to be careful. I'm telling ya, something doesn't feel right, mate. They're up to something." Insisted his friend, blowing another bout of smoke upward.

They were at a div bar in the middle of Los Angeles. It was a place you met up at for safe conversations. This particular establishment was in an area, where no cop or scab dared to venture without being forced to. The place was dark; lit only by a few dim lamps above the scattered tables. A small bar area sat toward the back, a stage for dancers sat catty corner, but even that hadn't been used for a few years.

Another thing to note, was the way the concrete floor was split. If you believed stepping on a crack would indeed break someone's mother's back; this was the place to test that theory. The foundation hadn't seen renovation since 1960.

The walls themselves were brick; easiest to get blood from, while simultaneously leaving a reminder to the next wise guy who dared start trouble.

"We're ready. If they attack, we have the manpower, Louis. You're overthinking." Harry stated confidently, gesturing toward his feathery-haired friend.

The other man didn't look so convinced.

Louis was thinly built with short quaff hair. His fashionable appearance made him look almost out of time. His body was petite; only coming to a height of 5'9, but his rugged face with the slight five o'clock and deep cerulean eyes was more than enough to make up for where he lacked everywhere else.

His skin had been kissed by the sun, darkening it to a light tan. At full description, you wouldn't think Louis would be much of a threat.

That was usually someone's first mistake; and often times their last.

"I'm being cautious. Something you might want to consider, lad. We need to keep our ears open. I'm telling ya, we don't want to be caught with our knickers up our arsecracks." His friend contended, frowning when Harry grabbed his cigarette, putting it out in the ashtray in front of them.

"We won't have our pants anywhere near our asses. Stop worrying, Lou. I've got this under control." Harry clapped his friend's shoulder, making Louis rub it in response.

"Yeah, if you say so, mate." Louis rolled his eyes, worry reflecting in the dying light of the room.

"I do." Harry responded, picking up his drink.

Louis pulled another cigarette stashed behind his ear, fixing to light it.

Harry grabbed it from his hand, before the older guy could blink.

"Oi! That's me cig you're pinchin'." Louis grumbled, dismayed when Harry tore the cancer stick in three different parts; rendering it useless.

"You'll thank me later." Harry chuckled.

"Yeah, thanks asshole. That was my last fag." His Doncaster accent coming in spurts. It was more dominant when he got upset.

This was a minor annoyance, so the man didn't go full British. Lucky for Harry.

"I told you, I don't like the smell. Don't expect respect, when you can't be arsed to show some in the first place." Harry chastised, trying to get the after taste from his mouth. It wasn't just Louis who had been smoking. The bar was littered with yellow tar.

"Then, hold your breath; my nerves are shot, Harry. This thing has me losing sleep." Louis complained, grabbed his phone from his jeans when it vibrated.

Harry could swear the text aged the man ten years.

A small tension of silence, then, Louis replied something short, stuffing the phone back in his pocket.

"Trouble at the safehouse, we got to go. Our...guest, just tried to leave." Louis scratched himself, his face reflecting agitation.

Harry stood, throwing a few twenties at the female bartender.

"Have a good shift, luv." He called at her haggard appearance; which sparked when her lifeless pale orbs set sights on the tip.

"You know, I usually have to give a lap dance for this kind of gratuity." She beamed, taking in Harry's tall frame, green eyes and built figure.

Not that she had been staring or daydreaming.

Louis raised a brow, getting ready to follow Harry.

"No lap dance required, hun." Harry declined politely, walking out the door.

Louis leaned over the counter with a smirk.

"He's a modest sod. However, if you're still offer –"

"Beat it, creep!" She snarled, snatching Harry's glass, hurling it into the sink.

The door opened, his friend walking back in to see what the holdup was.

Louis pushed past him with a pout.

"Why do you get all the luck? My hand barely keeps me company, you get a girl for every day of the week. How's that fair?" He griped to the curly-headed lad, getting into the vehicle and slamming the door shut.

Harry got into the driver's side, starting the ignition.

"I think, it's the accent." Harry laughed, knowing when it came to sensualizing, his voice could turn on most American women.

Different story in Britain.

"I'm British too! So, what's the damn difference? I should be getting more purr than a pussycat factory, but here I am – no satisfaction." Louis continued to bitch, noticing they were sticking to backways to avoid being captured by cameras from the main traffic lights.

"It could be the higher octave you have that's a turn off," Harry shrugged. "Would be my guess. Niall, Zayn nor Liam have any trouble getting purr. Maybe you should try teasing the cat; instead of trying to go straight to petting? Play makes all the difference." He winked, watching Louis grin.

"You know what, H? You're a blight– "His words were cut off by sudden gunshots. "Holy fuck!"

Harry swerved, the bullets hitting his side door. Light flashed off the hollow points when they embedded into the body of his car.

Unfortunately, Harry cut the wheel short and the next thing he knew, they were hitting the side of a condemned building, head on.

"Harry!" Louis panicked, but it all fell silent.

The attack lasted only seconds; Harry didn't even have time to prepare himself. It would have been a risk to travel the main roads, but he failed to take into account of something happening when hiding in the shadows down backroads.

Another round of fire lit the car, making Louis duck down next to his unconscious friend. He knew if he didn't run then, he was dead.

"I'm so sorry, mate. I'll – "Louis didn't finish, throwing his seatbelt off and pushing open his door, keeping cover to avoid being shot at.

When he was far enough away, he dialed Niall.

It went straight to voicemail.

"Fuck me!" He yelled, kicking over a rubbish bin next to a dumpster.

He had no idea where he was, other than in a shitstorm of bad luck.

*

Harry saw dark colors surrounding his vision. The headache was unbearable behind his throbbing eyes, pounding uncontrollably like a jackhammer.

"Ugh," He moaned, reaching to massage his aching skull. His hands didn't seem to cooperate with the command. "Wm –"

His brows furrowed. Why was he having such a difficult time forming words? Harry was sure he didn't have a stroke – not at twenty-five, highly unlikely since he was healthy as a horse.

"Whmf – "He tried again, working his jaw around the rubber knot in his mouth. He bit down, noticing it was an inch in diameter. Large enough to keep his jaw agape, but small enough to fit into his pallet with little breathing difficulty.

Harry flexed his jaw, noticing the knot was attached to a wide platelet. It was pressed tightly against his mouth, sealing his mouth around the knob, effectively keeping him silenced. He recognized the type of gag as a BDSM muzzle – the sick bastards who did this, certainly thought they were being clever.

"Well, well, well! The man of the hour, has finally graced us with his consciousness." The person jeered, sarcasm dripping heavily from every word.

Harry didn't recognize the voice, nor did he understand what was going on.

Harry flexed his fists fastidiously, feeling them constrict against thick bracelets. His hands were chained securely behind his back, duct tape added adorningly to stop him from tampering with his bonds. This was vital, given their orders.

"Hunter and his bird, are probably already at the cabin." Another person spoke.

"He wanted to woo her, before we crashed the party," The main voice chuckled. "Dude is thinking far too much with the wrong head. We got about three days drive. That should be enough time for him to explain the basics." First voice dismissed, unworried.

"Ang is going to be pissed." A new voice interjected.

A short pause.

"Well, she'll just have to get over it. Our orders were to take Styles here, keep him at the cabin for safe keeping until we can get a hold of his friends. Reason why I told you NOT to shoot Tomlinson." Main guy waved off.

Harry could feel his body wake up from its comatose state. He was lying on a bare mattress, on the floor of a vehicle.

"Get comfortable, curly. We've got a long drive. In case you got any ideas of escape, those chains won't be coming off anytime soon. Neither will this," He tapped the muzzle, enjoying the muffled grunt that left the bound hostage. "I got it from the local sex shop down the road. Girl told me it was the most effective one in stock; I can see she was right. Wouldn't be good if you can get the attention of any Tom, Dick or Joe." The man antagonized, noticing Harry's breath was picking up.

"Aw, he's getting mad." The other person mocked.

The main one in charge, Harry guessed; laughed at his friend's observation.

"He is. Fortunately, that blindfold was bought with his muzzle. We don't have anything to worry about. They're both locked. He couldn't get them off, even if he tried. So, there's little to concern ourselves with."

Harry's brows furrowed down. He didn't understand what they meant by locked.

Almost like reading Harry's mind, he felt a hand go behind his head and tug at the straps.

When the hands released the device viciously tied on to his face, he could feel a lightweight padlock resting against the back of his crown.

"Locked. As in, I have the key and you can't get them off without it."

Harry felt his body tense, his sense of panic was settling in. He could barely move, but he'd be damned if he didn't fight.

"Dante? Give me the ketamine. I believe everything has been made clear." His captor said, shifting to grab the shot from his friend.

Harry didn't need to see to know the cocky son of a bastard was finding great amusement in his discomfort. He wouldn't admit it to himself; let alone anyone else, the thought of being abducted scared the absolute piss out of him.

A needle slid into his neck, right above the leather straps that formed around his neck.

"Goodnight, Harry. Sleep well." The voice bid, cutting out to complete silence.

Shifting could be heard near him, Harry just didn't get to think much more; his thoughts fading fast, trapping his panic in a dreamless pinfold.

Emory watched Harry fall away once again, lit with excitement beyond anything words could express. He had successfully grabbed the guy they were after, without fail. His boss would be pleased.

"Let's get going. We have a long drive, best not dally any longer. We need to get out further, before Tomlinson sends in the Calvary."

The driver agreed, starting up the van to start the trip. Everyone else, took to entertaining themselves. It was a long journey; Emory agreed to keep watch on Harry to assure the guy behaved himself and the rest had nothing further to worry about until they got to Montana.

*

Present Time:

"LET ME OUT! LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Ang screamed, throwing something up at the door. Harry didn't know what, considering he was working on getting his heart back out of his throat from being so rudely awakened.

Not that he had wanted to take a nap to begin with. Sadly, that ketamine packs a hell of a kick to the balls.

"BASTARDS! Your mothers should have swallowed you and saved humanity the suffering!" She ended her rant, sitting heavily down onto the bench.

It was quiet for a moment, before Harry could hear the girl start to play random notes.

That lasted three seconds.

Continuous pounding from the keys set Harry's head into a protest. He was getting a migraine. Maybe they could let the girl borrow his gag for a while; God knows, she needed it more than he did.

"This? Yeah, this is BULLSHIT!" She exploded, standing to pace. Harry knew she couldn't help him; had she been able to, he would have tried to calm her.

The door opened.

Multiple pairs of feet descended.

"Let me the fuck out!" She demanded.

A slap filled the air, tensing the atmosphere to sudden quiet.

"You will calm down." Emory restrained himself, speaking through clenched teeth.

"I'll do that when you eat me, asshole." Ang responded, receiving another brisk slap.

Harry was surprised she didn't cry out. Was this a common occurrence in her life?

"I won't repeat myself." Emory warned, yanking the girl back, forcing her against the wall. Ang was quick to react. She lifted her foot back, nailing him square in the sunless place.

Harry couldn't see, but holy damn, the sound that left Emory's lips told him everything he needed to know about the situation.

Emory's best friend for the next few hours was going to be a bag of frozen vegetables.

"You bitch!" Dante exclaimed, rushing her the same time the other two help to get her on the floor. "Hunter? Get the fucking duct tape! Quit staring at her like you spotted a mermaid."

Andre moved to hold down her feet. Hunter regrettably went across the room to get the tape, helping Emory onto the couch beside them.

"Drug her." Emory hissed; his brain barely able to find words, due to the excruciating pulsation in his dick.

"That wasn't part of our agreement." Hunter protested, wrapping Ang's hands behind her.

"We're through, Hunter! We're done. You hear me?! I fucking hate you!" Ang cried, her emotional turmoil overflowing with confusion and rage.

"I think the whole damn vicinity heard you, babe. Calm down." Dante advised, watching Hunter wrap the girl's legs effectively.

"PUT HER OUT!" Emory yelled impatiently, curling over himself to ease some of the pain.

"We're through." Ang sobbed, letting go of her reserve, feeling Hunter pick her up. He dropped her on the mattress, behind Harry's chair.

"Give me the shot." Hunter ordered tonelessly, walking back to take it from Dante.

The other male gave it to him without any further prompting.

Ang looked up, her eyes staring fiercely into his own; a defiance sketched in unwavering challenge.

"Fuck you and the white horse you rode in on. Fuck the day we met, fuck everything about you. Fuck us; fuck everything." Her voice broke at the end, hurt betraying the anger.

Harry felt a small inkling of pity settle in his breath.

A piece of tape was forcefully ripped from the roll, following a feral growl.

"It's going to be alright, sweetheart. Just get some rest; we'll discuss this when you've calmed down." Hunter petted her long, soft light-honey brown hair, his fingers raking it back from her face.

A small gasp left her sealed lips, feeling Hunter inject the drug straight into her neck.

Ang felt the searing burn course through her veins; numbing to an echo.

She saw white dream-lights fog around her Irises, eyes alit, calmly looking up at Hunter's face while he continued to stroke her hair. She was angry, but the strength to care was sucked dry.

"That's it, just sleep." Hunter hummed, bending down to place a gentle kiss on the tape. He watched his girlfriend lose the battle, not mistaking the look she shot him when her eyes finally shut, tears falling softly down the sides of her cheeks.

Betrayal was easy to read, the look somewhat haunting.

"Get Em upstairs, preferably resting with an icepack. I'll keep order down here." Hunter promised, watching his two friends assist Emory up the stairs.

No one objected.

When the door slammed shut above, Hunter couched down next to Harry's chair.

He stared up at their hostage, much like Ang had earlier.

Harry sensed the man's stare, shaking his head in disgust. The twenty-five-year-old was done playing games. He needed to get out.

The question was, how?


	3. Chapter 2: Regretfully

Ang sat silently on the leather couch, leaning back on her arms uncomfortably. At the twenty-four-hour mark, she was getting ready to pull her hair out.

“I’ve been tied up for a fucking day.” She muttered, interrupting their tense silence.

Harry’s head moved in direction of her distressed voice; eyes furrowed in hopes of hearing something other than the bothersome thoughts swirling around his head.

“Hunter assisted me in the damn bathroom. I can’t, nor do I want to imagine what you’ve been through. I didn’t understand,” Ang trailed off regretfully, shifting to relieve pressure on her tailbone. “I do now. I’m sorry.”

Harry shrugged, unbothered. He knew modesty in this situation was the least of concerns. He had one mission and one only. If it meant he could get back to Los Angeles alive, preferably in one piece; then he would continue on with his original plan. Nothing must get in way of that. This was an inconvenient setback, but he took satisfaction in knowing he pissed off the right people.

Deafening silence settled between the two, not that Harry could talk.

Since he couldn’t, listening to Ang kept him somewhat sane. Even if she did tend to prattle about incessantly, the British man loved the sound of her voice.

Honey-smooth velvet, wrapped in a sprig of faint fragility. Ang wasn’t broken; far from it. Sadly, he held no doubt stress would lead her to make a quick-snap decision.

Harry would have to goad that in his favor if or when the time came.

“Hunter lied. He told me this whole ruse was a weekend getaway. Two weeks later; we have an abducted diplomate from Britain being held down in this basement and fuck all if anyone will tell me anything. I’m just the cook, maid or mindless sex toy. You can bet your balls Hunter won’t be getting any, not now; not ever again.” She ended her rant in a sneer, directing the statement to the stairs in hopes her asshole ex was listening.

The door unlocked, one pair of footsteps descending. The stomping loud against the metal gridding beneath their muscular frame.

“Fuck you!” Ang snapped, baring her teeth. She was vast becoming a pain in the ass; something Emory thought to rid themselves of soon, if the girl didn’t get a grip.

“Ang? That’s enough. One more insult, I’ll gag you,” Hunter threatened, walking over to deposit himself next to his girlfriend. “We need to talk.”

“Talk to your hand.” Ang responded tersely, turning away from him.

Harry tilted his head upward to listen to the exchange. If he couldn’t watch the fights on tele; Ang would certainly provide him with some entertainment.

“Please just li – “Hunter started to plead, clearly at the end of his rope.

“Go stick your dick in a light socket.”

Hunter slapped his hand across her mouth, pressing her head back against the stuffed cushion. Her grey-blue eyes widened, struggling to release her hands from the bonds.

“Emory is looking up ways to discreetly dispose of a body. Yours, to be exact. I need you to stop jeopardizing this job, Ang. So, this is what’s going to happen; hm?” He waited for her acknowledgment.

She stilled under his touch. The honey-brown haired girl wasn’t going to give him one.

“Fine. I’ll TELL you what’s going to happen.” He spoke after the short silence. “I’m going to untie you. In doing so, you are going to tote your cute little ass up those steps and fix supper. None of us can cook worth a damn. You will bring a plate back down for the two of you, as Harry hasn’t eaten in the last day and a half. From there, you will be allowed to roam about, depending how your cooperation is during mealtime. Do I have your attention?”

Ang bit down on the sensitive webbing between his fingers in response.

Hunter let out a deep squeal, prying his hand off her mouth.

Harry would have chuckled. She was a little dessert viper that one.

“Stop being a bitch!” Hunter exploded.

“I’ll stop being a bitch, when you stop being a pussy! Tell me, Hunt? Do you enjoy sucking Emory o –“ A sharp slap accompanied her half-verbalized insult.

Harry flinched. He found it disheartening these men used their hands to beat down this girl. He could understand how frustrated these guys were, but even Harry knew better than to lay a finger on someone unnecessarily.

“I would advise you to shut your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.” Hunter hissed coldly; beautiful eyes deadpanned into Ang’s.

Harry could hear a snort.

“That’s the thing,” Ang laughed incredulously. “I don’t know what’s good for me. I obviously never have. Pathetic, really. I mean – I dated you. That was my first mistake.“ Her amusement turning to sorrow, rendering her throat dry.

Harry bit the leather knot in his mouth. He’d at least have something to say; a commodity of some sort that could save the moment, but he just heard him shift to start unting the girl.

Ang let out a quick exhalation when the tape tore away.

“You expecting a thank you? Because you can suck my non existant co –“

“Go wash up and get yourself under control. There’s a bottle of tequila in the fridge. I’d advise you to take a swig.” Hunter commanded gruffly, kneeling down to release her feet and effective cutting off the rest of her retort.

“I hate you.” She muttered, standing gingerly to get her bearings.

Hunter didn’t respond. He was wiser to let her insults roll off his feathers. The girl had a short temper, ninety percent of the time, he doubted she meant what she actually said.

Eventually, the two made their way up the steps; leaving Harry alone to find solace with himself.

Not that he wasn’t already at peace. Actually, he hadn’t known that feeling for a long time. Not since he was a teenager.

Harry jerked his head to the side. He hated that damn gag. If he got the upper hand, he’d shove this muzzle so far up Emory’s ass and then down his throat, he’d need to have it surgically removed.

“Amhon.” The Brit growled.

Calling the all-American boy an asshole, didn’t tame the urge to kill the bastard. He had been chained to that chair for two weeks. If Harry was going to get out, he needed to start appealing to Ang.

She wanted to know what was going on?

Maybe Harry could get away with a loose-leaf truth? After all, he needed to get the girl on his side.

The problem, was how? She had about as much control as he did. That wasn’t much, but it could be enough.

An hour must have either gone really fast or really slow. Time didn’t exist for Harry. He knew when to sleep when one of the men would untie him from his chair and rechain him down on his mattress. The wakeup process was more than less opposite.

Untied, thrown in chair, chained down, forgotten. In that exact order, unless one of them was in a bad mood. Then they’d just beat him for the hell of something new to do.

“I’m tired of dealing with this!” Ang complained, her sharp footsteps entering the basement. She was accompanied by Hunter, his hand secured onto her shoulder in case she fell.

The tray she was carrying had two small salads, two bowls of pasta, a basket of bread and a few pieces of cake she had gotten from the bakery the day before, when they had allowed her to go with them.

“The man is blindfolded. His blindfold is LOCKED on. He would be plain stupid to try and run. He hasn’t seen the layout of the cabin; considering the dude has been tied to that chair. How much of a threat can Harry be?” Ang demanded, spinning around to face Hunter once she’d reached the bottom.

Harry would have smirked at that statement if able.

She really doesn’t know where his hands have been or how much blood he’s spilled.

“We’re done with this discussion. Feed, then muzzle when he is finished. The damn idiot is getting into your head and make you act a fool.” Hunter muttered, leaving to go back upstairs.

“I need those.” Ang slammed down the tray, turning grab the water bottles out of Hunter’s other hand. “Dismissed.” She pointed toward the stairs, turning her back on him.

Hunter stood there, glaring in her direction.

“Leave.” Ang ordered tonelessly, picking up the key to Harry’s muzzle from the tray, making her way back behind his chair.

Harry felt excitement surge in his chest.

Hunter threw his hands across himself.

“I mean it, Hunt. We’re done. I may talk bs; ninety-nine percent of what comes out of my mouth, but that one percent? Yeah, I’m finished. I meant every word and every syllable attached to them. I cannot love someone who –“ Ang trailed off, making quick work of Harry’s gag, pulling the knot out of the poor lad’s mouth and tossing it on the bed.

“GO!” Ang yelled, glowering.

Hunter turned about, stomping up the stairs.

The door slammed moments later, the lock clicking in place.

“Wa…” Harry’s throat felt like sand. Foul, leathery aftertaste was dominant from wearing the gag so long.

Ang cracked open one of the bottles, putting the spout to his mouth and tipping.

Harry drunk greedily, his Adam’s apple bobbing quickly to accommodate the large gulps. She pulled it away after he had consumed half, watching him take in quick relieving breaths.

“Thanks.” He croaked, tilting his head down.

Ang didn’t say anything. She thought having to feed the man was stupid and she would stick by that notion until her dying day. It wasn’t like two lovers feeding each other; this task was far more awkward.

“If you promise not to attack me,I can have you out of those cuffs in about thirty seconds. They’re from a sex-shop; so the type of lock used is child’s play. Any three-year-old with a safety pin can release them.” Ang informed Harry factually.

Harry’s frown deepened.

“Why would I attack you? Luv, I don’t know who you THINK I am, but –“

The girl cut him off.

“I THINK you’re dangerous. However, I’m discovering Emory and his friends are a little bit more unhinged. Who takes a guy from California to Montana, keeps him blindfolded and gagged – unless you’re a kinky bastard, which; I don’t think you are and if you were, I’m not sure being tied up, gagged and beaten up by other men would be your thing,” She snorted ingeniously. “Then again, maybe it is. I don’t know. I certainly didn’t sign up for this crazy two-week adventure of feeding you, wondering how many years I’m going to get for being an accessory to kidnapping, trying not to lose my sanity while I think about that. Let’s not forget the most important jobs though! Icing your bruises after they’ve beaten the crap out of you, cleaning, cooking, nightly sex for Hunter – which, that’s now off my list. Oh! Helping to dress your ass; which is not easy to do on a tall, unconscious man by the way – “She trailed off, her tone getting less sarcastic as it finished.

“Yeah,” Harry trailed off uneasily once he was sure Ang was done spazzing. “I wanted to thank you for that. They knocked me out and threw me on the bed.”

Ang shifted to crouch down behind Harry’s chair, touching his middle finger thoughtfully.

He heard a small click.

“Like I said, Harry. Give me thirty seconds.” She assured him coldly, feeling her shift the metal bracelets around to gain access.

He felt her one hand steady his left hand, the other placed above, moving a slim metal piece gently inside.

Fifteen seconds later, the shackle popped from his wrist. She moved his arm from behind, feeling the limb strain under her touch.

Harry cried out, letting a hiss slip through his clenched teeth.

“Shh.” Ang calmed, placing her fingers over his shoulder to lightly massage where the tension seemed the most noticeable.

Harry wished he could see her face. He did, because it was only left to his imagination what the feisty girl looked like. A mere curiosity, nothing more.

“There we go, love.” Ang patted his arm, throwing the cuffs away.

Harry bit his bottom lip, licking the top nervously.

“I don’t know what you want me to say?” He questioned the girl, not understanding why she’d bother untying him. He was thankful, but confused never the less. If she thought he was so dangerous, why take the risk?

“Nothing. I figure you’d like to feed yourself for once,” She shifted to remove the tape from his feet. “We’re going to get you set up on your mattress. You look like you’re about to fall from the chair.” Ang smiled, seeing his frown melt down to the edges of his jaw.

When he didn’t respond, Ang went to his side, throwing her arm around his mid back, pulling him forward.

Harry threw his muscular limp around her shoulders, assisting the girl down onto the ground. He felt his sore ass start to smart.

“Move back until you feel the mattress.” Ang instructed, helping him until he was comfortably sitting on the mattress with his back against the wall.

“Thank you.” He murmured genuinely, hearing her footsteps walk to the piano. He heard her walk back a second later, shifting to a sit in front of him.

“Here,” She dismissed his gratitude, placing a warm breadstick in his hand. “Eat this.”

His brow raised under the blindfold. He used his other hand to pinch the object, bringing it to his nose to give a good sniff.

“It’s a breadstick. I have pasta, breadsticks and a few pieces of cake. Eat and stop playing with your food.” Ang told him sternly, guiding his hand to his mouth so the end of the breadstick was against his mouth.

He finally bit into the baked dough.

No sound erupted, save for his slow chewing. The silence settling comfortably between them.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” He asked, when he didn’t hear her moving to consume anything from the tray she brought down.

Ang shrugged, rolling her eyes when she realized Harry couldn’t see.

Curiosity was getting to her. What color eyes did this mysterious person have? She’d ask, but that would be an awkward conversation.

“You could say my appetite isn’t exactly forthcoming right now; but then again, no one else is either.” Ang replied, bringing her hand up to the blindfold to inspect the lock. It was a risk to unblindfold him, considering she didn’t know much about the chap.

Harry froze, his hand going back to grip Ang’s.

“Angela – “His voice deepened warningly, swallowing the piece of bread he had been chewing.

“Angelique,” She corrected indignantly. “Do I sound like a fucking Angela to you?” She growled, grabbing a breadstick and taking a bite from it. “Asshole.” She grunted with her mouthful.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. The girl did sound like an Angela. Fiery, feisty and ready for a good fight at any moment’s notice.

“Apologies, my lady,” He mocked a bow. “My eyes are sensitive. I don’t like people poking me.”

A realistic request. She brought her hand back to her lap.

“How about a compromise?” She swallowed, tossing the other uneaten half of bread back on the tray. “I answer some questions you have; you answer some of mine? We say ‘pass’ on the ones we don’t feel comfortable answering?”

Harry smiled.

“I’m not telling you who I am or what I do. If you’re trying to get info as to why I’m here? The only thing I can figure is, I’ve pissed off the right people on the wrong side.” He summed up everything she was going to ask.

Ang cursed.

“Well, that’s disappointing. How did you get nabbed anyhow?” She asked curiously, watching him swallow the last of the bread. She picked up one of the bowls of pasta, turning his palm up and setting it inside. Her other hand placed his padded fingers against the fork inside.

He gripped the flimsy plastic instinctively. It was like teaching a newly blind person how to feed themselves.

“I was heading to one of my safehouses with my friend. We took backroads and they must have known our location, because they opened fire on us and I hit a condemned building, knocking myself out. No idea what happened to Tomlinson, other than I know for certain that your friends didn’t hurt him.” Harry shrugged, stabbing blindly into the bowl and bringing the noodles up to his mouth.

Ang watched half of them slide back into the bowl.

She snorted, taking the fork when he handed it back to her, opting to use his fingers instead. It reminded Ang of her three-year-old brother doing the exact same thing when he was just learning to use utensils.

“Not funny.” Harry grumbled, lifting up his tomatoey fingers, shoving a noodle in his mouth, some of it getting under his fingernails.

“I’m not laughing at your misfortune, Harry. I’m amused at your eating habits. Besides, they haven’t been my friends in years, not since I got clean. I only reacquainted with them because of Hunter.” Ang shrugged, taking a napkin from the tray, using a little of the water from Harry’s water bottle to dampen it. She put it to just under his mouth.

He grabbed it with his other hand.

“Wipe.” She ordered, completely infatuated with this stranger.

Harry licked his fingers, acquiescing to Ang’s request.

“What color are your eyes? I’m thinking honey brown?” She took a guess, trying to imagine what this person’s face looked like without the cover obstructing it.

Harry smirked, wondering where that question came from.

Not that he wasn’t wondering the same thing. He was quite curious about all of them.

Especially the girl.

“I suppose the only way to truly know, is to take this trap off,” He shrugged jokingly, knowing damn well Ang wouldn’t risk getting in trouble. “Sadly, we both know that’s not happening. So, let’s move on.” Harry offered, growing disgusted at himself for eating like a toddler and choosing to take a more dignified approach by lifting the bowl to his lips.

He felt her hand gently clasp his wrist, stopping the action.

It was quiet for a moment; a pass of consideration between them.

“If – “She swallowed, wondering where this was going. “If I were to legitimately consider this, would you promise not to attack me?” A hint of nervousness. That was rather annoying, Harry admitted.

He let out an exasperated sigh. He slammed the bowl on the ground.

“I’m not some thug that goes beating up on girls; stop assuming my preference of handling a situation is automatic violence. I’m not like your bloody boyfriend or his friends!” Harry snarled, turning his head from her.

“Then why are you here!?” Ang all but cried, slamming her fist down next to her.

Harry pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“I told you.” He began, flinching when she grabbed the back of his blindfold, forcing his head down some to study the padlock.

“Fucking child’s play, man. God. I know I’m going to regret this.” Ang growled, taking her hairpin and aggressively jamming it into the keyhole.

Harry heard the lock give, feeling the feisty girl unhook it from its latch. She chucked it across the room, unbuckling the last of his constraints.

“Keep your eyes closed until you feel like you can open them. I’ll go dim the lights, because you’re about to have some serious senses overload.” Ang warned, tossing the blindfold by his muzzle.

He had been blinded twenty-four/seven. She half expected his senses were going to be heightened to maximum level. During the time he had been blindfolded, his brain rewired itself to adapt to his situation. Everything would be more alert.

Harry nodded, his tomato-stained fingers touching under his left eye to make sure he wasn’t just imagining this.

She dimmed the lights by the stairs, coming back to meet him.

“Just go slow. It’s going to take a few hours for everything to focus completely.”

Harry heard the concern. It might have been hidden beneath bitter tone, but he suspected the girl had a good heart.

She had to; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been taken care of nearly as well.

“If the lads upstairs allow that. Just because I’m not a threat to you, doesn’t mean I’m not going to make an escape, if one is presented.” Harry responded casually, feeling her wipe his fingers free from pasta sauce. The guy looked too innocent, especially with tomato smudge under his eye.

“I’m rooting for you to escape, if you can believe that. It means, I can make mine. Get lost; disappear. I don’t have anything to keep me tied to Hunter anymore. Family, friends – responsibilities,” Ang shrugged. “I lost all that. No use asking forgiveness. I won’t get it.”

Harry cocked his head. She being cryptic; but the story was there.

“We all make mistakes, luv,” Harry reasoned gently, blinking rapidly under his eyelids. “You have to forgive yourself, before anyone else can.”

Ang snorted disbelievingly.

“Yeah,” She stood, walking to the piano. “Coming from the unknown hostage, that doesn’t comfort me.”

He heard her sit at the piano, adjusting her hands on the keys.

“If I told you, I wouldn’t be able to let you leave this basement alive. I’m here, because I pissed off some very powerful people for all the right reasons. They want information – I don’t have said knowledge of what they want. Not directly. Tomlinson has it, but he won’t exchange the info for me. That’s why there’s a stalemate. It’s the reason your friends have had me longer than planned.”

Half-truth, whole lie.

Harry knew damn well why they needed him. It was for leverage to have the person he was holding released. This was like a hostage exchange of sorts, where his prisoner gets released and the Brit gets his throat slit.

Louis wasn’t dumb, they knew not to negotiate. If a settlement couldn’t be reached; both hostages would end up dead without a resolve.

Ang didn’t say anything, but her fingers were effortlessly gliding over the piano, playing notes to dissolve their tension.

Harry’s muscles protested. He wanted to make his way over so he could try and get the girl to see reason.

“Stay!” The girl ordered, rushing over to him when she saw him trying to stand. His eyes were firmly shut.

“Help me.” He whispered contemplatively when her body drew close to his. The way his lips lingered by her ear made the action sensual; Harry didn’t mean for that to happen the way it did. His only goal was getting Ang to follow his lead.

“I untied you. What the hell else do you want? I’m a former drug addict, Harry. I can break into places, not exactly expert at escape. If I was, I wouldn’t have done time.” She jerked her face back, their faces inches apart.

Her silver, pale-aqua eyes watched intently as his fast blinking slowed under his long eyelashes. Ang could see them part open, blinking a few times against the dim light.

When he finally managed to fully open his shutters; dark, pale greens stared back. Not really seeing the girl, but her gasp let him know she saw him. This made Harry smile.

“My face was used as a punching bag, luv. I’m not exactly going to be walking Project Runway.” He responded to her gasp, amusement dripping from his retort.

“No, it’s…” Ang trailed off, not exactly sure what to say. He was beautiful, but dangerous. She could smell that on him a mile away.

He gently pushing her from their close proximity.

“I need you to trust me when the time comes. If you want out of here, I can help you. I just need cooperation in turn. That’s the only way this is going to work,” Harry ignored her stuttering, fixing his attention on bringing her to his team. “I can give you a new start.” He assured, reaching his large hand to touch her shoulder.

She repelled from his touch, but didn’t shy away.

“My name is Harry Styles. I have a mother name Ann and I used to have an older sister named Gemma. She died when I was a teenager. I lived in Cheshire, before moving to California. There’s stuff happening that I can’t tell you. I refuse to promise you won’t be killed, but I can promise; that I won’t hurt you if I can help it. Right now; we need to set aside our suspicions and come up with a plan to get the hell out of here.”

Ang concentrated on every word he spoke. She watched him shut his eyes, the dim light still too much for him.

She heard distant footsteps from upstairs, causing her to grab the blindfold.

“I’m going to strap this loosely. You’ll be able to pull it off, but do so when you’re sure everyone’s gone to bed.” Ang advised, making quick work on his blindfold, reaching to push the muzzle back over his mouth.

He growled in annoyance, noticing she straps weren’t as tight.

“Shh. I’m sorry, but if they suspect – “She trailed off; her whisper dying, listening to the door above open.

Harry recognized Hunter’s footsteps descending. He threw his hands behind him, laying down obediently on his mattress, feigning defeat.

Ang patted his arm quickly; throwing the cuffs behind Harry to hide the fact their prisoner was no longer restrained.

Breaking away from the mystery stranger; she smiled, picking the tray up to meet her ex-boyfriend at the steps.

It wasn’t in the plans, but – well, nothing about what happened was planned. Ang didn’t originally orchestrate a hostage spring. There was just something about the way Harry pleaded, that set her heart beating.

“I’m sorry. The way I’ve been acting these last few days, it’s been unacceptable. I’m just scared. We don’t know anything about this man and you promised me a romantic weekend. I felt lied to.” She tried her best to pout, but the way his backhand knocked her to the floor was painful and hard to ignore.

He bent down to pick her up from the floor.

“If you try to break up with me again?” He hissed, leaning forward. “Well, there won’t BE a next time. I rescued from the fucking gutters, bitch. Don’t forget where you came from; your place in all of this.” Hunter ended his threat, using his hand to slap her across the face again, just seeming not as harsh.

Harry shook his head, shifting his body to a comfortable position.

“Forever.” Ang whispered, picking up the tray she dropped.

Hunter grabbed her by her arm, forcing Ang up the steps forcefully.

“Yeah, now I’m going to make sure you don’t forget. You’re going to prove you mean every word! Now, Strip!” Harry heard Hunter’s order, the door to his prison slamming shut with the harsh click.

He let out an angry, slow breath.

Those bastards were going to be extremely sorry when he got out. Ang was just caught up in their bullshit.

Unfortunately, she was just swapping one mess for another. Harry wasn’t going to involve her; not completely, but there was more to this girl than met the eye, and that wasn’t just his dick talking. His brain told him she might prove to be a hidden asset.

If he’s wrong, he’d put the bullet in her himself.


	4. Chapter 3: Almost Lie

Two Weeks Prior:

Harry knew his bouts with consciousness were confusing ones. It had been an unknown amount of time before he gained his full senses.

The first confrontation with Emory had been when he woke up from being drugged.

Panic settled into his bones, freezing his veins into numbness when he recalled waking up blindfolded and muzzled.

Tensing against his constraints, Harry gave his hands a good tug, frowning when warm metal held them firm behind his back.

“Where am I?!” Harry demanded roughly, his octave deep and croaky from sleep. He realized he had been ungagged, but his blindfold had been kept on. “Answer me!”

A shift beside him, a crisp snap of a cap opening from an unopened water bottle assaulted Harry’s ear.

“Drink this, pretty boy.” Emory ignored the twenty-five-year-old and forced the spout to his lips, tipping its cool hydration into Harry’s gullet.

Emory watched unaffected, when some of the water escaped down the chin of his hostage’s loosely parted lips. It felt satisfactory to know Harry Styles was now out of their boss’s way for the time being.

An unfortunate circumstance as well; considering his employer had a son that was no doubt currently in Harry’s possession.

Emory jerked the bottle away forcefully, capping the nearly full container.

“You’ll get more; once you spill some information.” He negotiated coolly, watching Harry lick his lips to clear the water remanence.

“Go fuck yourself,” Harry replied automatically. “I’m not telling you shit.” He vowed to the man beside him, tugging his hands against his cuffs.

Silence followed his promise. Nothing but the engine and the movement followed inside the tense atmosphere.

“Fine. We’ll put ya back out, try again when you wake up,” Emory replied, snapping his fingers. “Ketamine.” He ordered his friend, hearing the other man shift.

“Let me go!” Harry demanded, feeling Emory’s hand clamp around his arm to still his struggling.

He felt a small prick in his upper shoulder; the sensation stilling him.

“What do you have to gain by this?!” Harry exclaimed, feeling the leather knot push into his mouth, effectively forcing the muzzle against his lips.

He tried to kick his feet out to express his agitation; Emory easily blocked his hostage’s attack.

“Relax!” The other man yelled, shifting to secure the buckles.

Harry garbled out a few muffled insults, bucking his shoulders back; hoping to knock Emory away from him.

“Stop fighting, damn it! You’re not going anywhere!” He pinched the straps tight, using his hand to force Harry’s forehead into the mattress to lock the gag on. “God! You’re a pain in the ass. I’d have done better just grabbing Tomlinson.”

Harry snorted softly.

If they grabbed Tomlinson, those men would have a drinking problem by end of the day. Louis was the type to make others regret their decisions and he’d make absolute sure they regretted abducting him.

Unfortunately, Harry didn’t have those same skills.

“My employer wants to know what happened to his kid. Naturally, you would be the first one we would question.”

Harry lulled his head back and forth. He wasn’t telling those men anything about their guest at the safehouse. They’d have to pry the information out of him.

“Fair enough, Styles. We’ll continue this when you wake up from your nap.” Emory hummed, patting his back condescendingly.

Soon enough, he felt the familiar gauzy wave of dream fill his darkened world; its rocking lullaby of warmth, blanketing him in a cocoon. Just as quickly, he felt himself slipping out reality; relief temporarily washing his fears away.

*

Present:

Harry ripped the constraints away from his face vigorously, his eyes dark jaded slits; made murkier by the basement light being turned off.

Upstairs, he could hear the other three men cheering.

Some turned to hooting in a primal way. Hell, the only one not reacting seemed to be Ang’s boyfriend. He seemed satisfied to emphatically make her strip for his friends. A pathetic man in Harry’s personal judgement, but he had bigger issues right now. Her virtue was not his problem.

“Stop!” Ang begged, her body making a loud thump against the basement door when one of the men forced her into it.

“Shut the fuck up!” Hunter growled, a sharp slap violating Harry’s ears. He winced at the sound, getting up from laying down.

“Aw, Hunter, that’s no way to talk to a lady,” Emory mocked, shifting next to his friend. “You got to show her she’s loved. Like this –“

Harry heard a short pause, a thump and then; a scream. He smiled when it was Emory instead of the girl.

“Bitch bit me!” He snarled.

“Damn right I did, you bastard! Kiss me again, you won’t have a lip left for me to bite!” Ang threatened, accompanied by another thump.

“You better get control of her, before I do, Hunter!” Emory advised, moving away from them. “There’s rope and another roll of tape in the pantry. Make some fucking use of it!”

“Will do. We’re going to bed anyhow.” Hunter proclaimed, shifting to lift Ang over his shoulder.

Harry only assumed when a low, rhythmic pounding occurred.

“I’m not sleeping with you! I’d rather sleep with Harry!” She rebutted, making the hostage chuckle. He liked Ang, she had spunk.

“He’s in his bed and now, we’re going to ours. Goodnight, Em. We’ll continue our earlier discussion in the morning.” Hunter bid, walking away from the basement door.

“Here, let me help tie her down; she’s going to be causing you trouble otherwise.” Emory pushed away as well to open the pantry where they stored the extra restraints.

Harry shook his head, realizing he was essentially trapped down there until morning. Ang left him untied so he could sleep, not so he could escape. They would have to talk about that later when Emory and the rest were preoccupied.

Not that he planned on letting Ang leave. He still thought there might be a reason for her being there, perhaps something she hadn’t been truthful with.

Shrugging his shoulders dismissively, he went to sit down on the leather sofa next to the stairs.

After sitting in a metal chair for two weeks or laying on a mattress placed on the floor, the way he sunk into the leather cushion was like a cloud on his aching body.

“Oh, sweet merciful God in Heaven.” He sighed, laying back.

The hostage couldn’t have been more thankful to Ang at that moment. Selfishly, it was what he needed, but that’s Harry. He thought of himself before others.

“I doubt those numpties will be in tonight. Assholes didn’t even bother to let me up to take a piss.” Harry complained to himself, shifting to lay down completely. He didn’t know how long he would be able to lay there until he had to go chain himself back up for in the morning.

If they knew Ang had left him free, they’d make sure to watch her closer and Harry didn’t need that. He wanted to successfully overthrow the patriarchy. That would become challenging, especially with someone analyzing your every move.

He had been as good as a church boy those past few weeks and as naughty as a schoolboy the last few days. It wasn’t a coincidence with Ang, he knew she wanted answers. The best way to bring her over, was to answer her questions without actually fully satisfying her curiosity. Funny that it turned out to be less difficult then he first assumed. Hunter’s rash decision to humiliate her in front of his friends, just further helped his cause and the bastard was too stupid to realize.

Of course, Harry couldn’t say he felt at least a little empathy for the girl; he wasn’t totally heartless. He was still deciding if when to put a bullet through the four men, Harry would allow Ang a choice to follow in their fate or share in his promise to offer her more than death.

The reflection of light underneath the door upstairs clicked off. They were going to bed; ignorantly thinking their hostage was down in the basement, safe and secure on the mattress.

A devious smirk formed over his rugged face; bruises on his jaw, reaching up to just under where the blindfold was, made the hostage look like he had gone ten rounds with a kangaroo and lost.

Once he came up with a plan, no one would know what hit them; not even Ang.

Harry was at a loss. On one hand, shooting her would be less hassle. The other? Well, it could all be an act to throw him off. He would have to ask more questions to appease his curiosity.

Closing his eyes, Harry was finally able to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in after two weeks being tied down.

*

Two Weeks Prior:

Harry’s third bout with consciousness, came when luke warm water sprayed over his head. Fear caused a muffled yelp to escape behind his gag, ineffective toward the men who had him stripped naked with his hands cuffed behind his back.

He struggled against his restraints, yelling at whoever felt the need to torture him. Harry sure as hell didn’t know what was going on. First, he was drugged to sleep, the next; he was naked as the day he was hatched, being practically waterboarded to death.

“You idiots! Take his muzzle off! That thing is leather, it will warp! I got something else if he causes too much ruckus.” Emory yelled, agitation smoothing his vocals.

“Blindfold too, boss?” Dante asked sardonically.

A brief pause.

“No, that stays on. I have another one we can change him into when you’re finished. Make sure to scrub him good, he smells like a fucking sewer.” Emory wrinkled his nose, knowing three days without letting Harry use any sort of facility to relieve himself was his boss’s idea. Anon told him to keep the guy tied down, not to be let up under any circumstances.

Keeping Harry drugged proved to be merciful for all involved. Soon, they would get their answers. Once they did, Styles would be smiling from his throat.

Andre pulled Harry’s head down, unbuckling the muzzle. It had been unlocked previously to give their hostage water, but he was too out of it to accept anything substantial.

Tossing the gag at Emory, Andre proceeded to grab a washcloth and rake it over Harry’s skin to wash sweat and filth that had collected on him.

“Get off me!” Harry growled as soon as his mouth got released, tugging his fists. Panic rose in his throat, tightening his muscles against their unwanted touch. He did not understand what was happening, having just gained consciousness.

“We’re giving you a shower, pretty boy. You reek and we can’t have you meeting our hosts in your current state. Relax.” Emory laughed, enjoying Harry’s frightened struggle. He saw a small bit of blood tear away at his wrist; the Brit was losing it fast.

“FUCK OFF! Don’t touch me! Get away! I can do it myself!” Harry yelled, attempting to curl down into a kneel. His hands cuffed behind him, prevented the man from moving much in the small space, which was even less considering the two men that were in there with him.

Emory snorted; clearly amused.

Leaning over he stuffed a balled rag into Harry’s mouth when he went to yell again, wrapping a strip of cloth over to prevent their hostage from spitting it out. He forced Harry’s head down, tying it secure.

“Now, we can shower in peace, hm?” He asked sardonically, noticing Harry’s cheek were reddening. It matched the short huff of air and short intakes of breath that tipped the other man off. It wasn’t embarrassment he was conveying, but pure, unadulterated anger.

“Pretty boy doesn’t like the resort treatment.” Emory smirked, backing out to let Andre wash their unwilling guest.

“Speaking of resort,” Andre awkwardly continued his task, not at all comfortable to be the one to be showering the man in front of him. “When’s Ang and Hunter coming back?”

Emory smiled genuinely, remembering Ang from a few years ago.

“A couple hours. Hunter still hasn’t let her know we were popping by. He’s breaking the news to her now, during their romantic stroll.” Em mimicked, fluttering his eyelashes, before rolling his eyes. “I’d say gag me, but – “He looked at Harry; who was yelling as loud as the ball of cloth was allowing him.

Andre chuckled at the irony.

“Get him shining like a monk’s head; let me know when you’re done. We’ll get him drugged, then we’ll dress him.” Emory said, stepping out of the shower to give the two awkward males some privacy.

Harry couldn’t see, so it wasn’t so bad for him, but Andre saw every detail and Emory didn’t miss the resentment in his friend’s eyes.

*

Present Time:

Sometime during the morning, Harry awoke to soft steps by the basement door.

“Harry?” Ang whispered weakly, unlocking the door quietly.

“On the couch, petal. Be careful, it’s dark,” Harry warned; standing to turn on the light, regretting it instantly. “Oh God.” He reached his hand to steady himself at the vertigo.

Ang was making her way down, helping Harry over to his mattress, running to dim the light again.

“That was stupid,” She murmured, making her way back to the man, kneeling down in front of him and smoothing her fingers down his cheek. “Are you okay?”

Harry smiled, appreciating her concern. If she knew what was going on inside his head, she would be better off being worried about herself.

“Bright as rain and smart as paint, angel.” He retorted lightly, bringing his wrist up to remove her fingers from caressing his cheek. She had done that when he first got there. It was all rather uncomfortable, especially not knowing this girl.

He noticed her attire, the smile disappearing from his face.

“A bit better than you it would seem, luv. Where are your clothes?” He asked dumbfounded, seeing she was clad in only a thong brief and a low-cut matching black bra. It certainly didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Hunter made me strip, threw all my clothes in the closet and locked it. I’ll get my clothes back when I and I quote ‘learn to love, cherish and obey.’ So, might be awhile. I don’t cherish asshole and if they want someone to obey them, they can get a dog.” Ang retaliated, looking stiffly at her knees.

Harry smiled gently at the girl, admiring her strength.

“I’d offer you my clothes – “He trailed off, looking down with a grimace. “Actually, what the hell am I wearing?”

“Clothes. Wanna trade?” Ang asked, quipping her eyebrow up, smiling sarcastically.

Harry laughed airily, his deep tenor rumbling in his throat.

“I want to hurt the men that abducted me, petal. I don’t want to kill them just yet. They see me in that getup and they’ll laugh themselves to death.” Harry smiled, enjoying her presence. He didn’t quite trust her, but he certainly didn’t dislike having company.

His eyes looked down when he felt her pass him something.

In his hand was a banana and a steak knife.

Ang shifted, her hands leaving his.

“I couldn’t get Hunter’s gun, but I got you a weapon. The banana is a mid-morning snack. I’ll make something later when the day gets started.” She promised returning his smile, appreciating Harry’s gentleman approach to her lack of clothing. He kept his eyes strictly on her face.

“I’m looking forward to it,” He nodded, reaching forward to hide the knife under the mattress. When that was hidden out of sight, he started to peel the banana, biting into it hungrily. “Can I ask you a question, flower?”

Ang blinked, cocking her head slightly.

“I suppose, but only if I get to ask you one.” She compromised, watching his green eyes reflect the request in distrusting.

“My rules still remain the same,” He grumbled, moving on. “How did you get caught up with these jackasses? You seem like a smart lass, why ever get tangled up with a gang like them? They’re bad news, luv. Like, murder your grandmother over a shilling type of evil.”

Ang went quiet, breaking away from Harry’s side. She got up, throwing her arms across her chest awkwardly.

“Uh – I forgot your water. I’ll be right back.” She turned to walk up the stairs, hearing their hostage shift to stand.

She noticed he got up quicker than before, rushing to stop Ang from leaving, grabbing her wrist.

“I’m here, because I abducted their boss’s kid. Hostage negotiations are at a stand still right now. If no one acquiesces to the other’s demands, then there is a stalemate,” He began calmly, “When that happens, both of us are going to be executed if an agreement cannot be agreed upon. Emory will kill me, as you’ve already seen and his employer’s son will meet his end by my first runner; Louis. Now, I answered your query. I want to know why the fuck you’re involved!” Harry hissed, practically dragging the girl back to the mattress.

Ang didn’t fight against Harry. She sat where he dragged her, not thrilled to trip down memory lane.

“I was troubled youth. Father was a cop; mother was a school teacher,” She smiled. “I guess you could say I got the best of both worlds. Father showed me how to get out of cuffs, pick locks, break in to weak entrance points. Mom showed me how to use my brain to better my technique. I had a four-year-old brother, who I absolutely adored; would move the world for him.” Ang recalled his smile and green eyes. Harry reminded her the most of her brother.

“His name was Austin,” She studied Harry’s face. His brows were furrowed down, his head tilted slightly and his eyes made direct contact with hers. “I got involved with Emory, Andre and Dante when we all had the bright idea to rob the same damn liquor store. It’s worth noting that, unlike them, I successfully got in.” Ang smirked, her memory replaying their first meeting.

Harry didn’t laugh or smile. He just continued to listen.

“I mooned them through the store window at my victory, before dancing around the isles. They stood outside just watching. Emory enjoyed the tease; the other two, not so much,” Ang genuinely laughed. “You would have to of been there to understand.” She defended, noticing Harry’s stoic expression.

Harry bit into his banana.

“Sounds like a match made in Heaven, petal.” He responded coldly, peeling the skin down a little more to enjoy his fruit in leisure.

Ang looked down at her bare thighs.

“I suppose you could say it was. When I finally disarmed the security alarm and let them in, we got wasted in the liquor store; I don’t even remember following them, but boy, waking up in a stranger’s bed puts a lot of tings in perspective. Luckily, I was fully dressed and Emory was quite the gentleman. Made me breakfast,” She shrugged. “If things had turned out differently, I would have probably ended up dating him.”

The confession shocked Harry some.

Emory was a brut. Hell, he was a cold-blooded killer. Hunter never killed anyone, but Emory? That guy was known to kill elderly, women, men and their children if it got a clear message across.

Noticing Harry’s darkening eyes, she shied away.

“It never happened. Listen, I’m sorry – “Ang cleared her throat, worried she upset her newly made friend with the admission. “I was young and dumb. I know what he is, I know what he does. I trust you more than anyone else here, obviously.” She gestured to where he hid his weapon. “I can’t confide in them, not after what they’ve put me through. I want to leave and never look back. If you have a plan, I’m one hundred percent with you.”

Her body language, her eyes and movements suggested that Ang was sincere in her proclamation. Harry made the decision then, to take her with him.

“I believe you.” He replied, unable to shake the feeling. There was something to her story that bugged Harry, he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Ang curled her knees up against her chest.

“I’m glad someone does,” She said sadly, glancing to the prisoner’s face. “Unfortunately, I came down to give you a banana, before I chain you back up. The men will be awake in an hour or so. If they see you this way…” Ang gestured, trailing off.

Harry stuffed the rest of the banana in his mouth, chewing quickly. He hated that fucking muzzle. He was going to set it on fire – while it was locked onto Emory’s head.

Ang did not miss the deep hated stare when she picked up the gag. In fact, she half expected the thing to disintegrate.

“Relax, Harry. No muzzle,” She threw it behind them, opting to pick up his blindfold. “Just this and your cuffs; sound good?”

She was enthusiastic, trying to make him feel better with his situation.

He nodded, closing his eyes to let her lock it on.

“Lock is somewhere by the couch, luv. Do with that info what you will.” Harry grumbled, knowing Ang didn’t have a choice. They would need to plan out their escape. He was going to leave out details about killing the men, until the time was right to reveal his intentions.

Harry felt the leather padding press against his eyes, blocking out his sight once more. He was becoming depressed; familiar uncertainty surrounded the man’s doubt, making him question his trust when it came to the girl.

Never trust a chained hostage. He was tied up in secrecy; a mystery to her, no more than that of a stranger. Yet, she trusted him. Ang put all her hope in being saved; but really, was it Harry that would reveal himself as the true villain in the end?

Harry moved his large hand out, preening his fingers down the side, fragility in his touch made the girl shudder.

“For what it’s worth; I’m sorry. Whatever happens after, yeah?” He asks, feeling her move his arm behind him. He shifted to lay down, rolling on his stomach for easy access.

Ang moved the other wrist, snapping both cuffs back in place securely. Harry grunted, shifting onto his side, unable to get comfortable.

“Of course, Harry. Whatever happens.” She promised, moving to the couch, picking up Harry’s lock from the floor.

He heard her move back, knowing he was about to be left defenseless again.

“How did you end up getting free from your room? I thought they tied you up?” Harry thought to ask, feeling the padlock slip through the latch and click shut.

Ang chuckled.

“I’m persuasive when I need to be,” She hummed, gathering the banana peel. “See you at breakfast, Harry.”

With that, Harry heard her tiptoe up the steps, locking him securely in until the men came to let him up for his morning bathroom break.

He sighed, rocking back.

“I bloody hate this, man. This is bullshit with a capital BS. Damn Tomlinson to Hell; when I catch up with him, he better have a good reason for why I’m in this position.” Harry growled, tugging his hands against the cuffs, testing their give.

Tight as ever.

He relaxed his arms, his thoughts going to Ang.

“There’s a lot more than she’s letting on,” Harry insisted to himself, determined to find out exactly what that could be. “Ang has to know about Emory’s boss. If she could prove herself trustworthy, maybe she could get information?”

Wondering wasn’t doing him much good. Nor was driving himself insane with questions. If he wasn’t frustrated with his situation, he was vexed at his wondering brain.

He smiled at the way Ang shivered at his touch. Harry liked to know that he could garner that reaction from her. She might be strong willed, but a gentle touch; especially toward someone who has been severely abused, would sway things further in his direction. The girl wanted to be loved. It was only natural, given her history – and Harry could play that to an advantage.

In the end, maybe he was just the villain; but he had his reasons.


	5. Chapter 4: No Good in Goodbye

Harry heard footsteps rushing down the stairs. One was being dragged, the other stepped to a monotonous beat.

“Stop!” Ang yelled, her body falling painfully down the last few steps, her pained scream brought Harry to sit up on his mattress.

“HEY! Leave her alone!” Harry barked, fighting against his restraints instinctively. He heard a low warning growl, followed by Hunter’s thunderous footsteps. He was putting more force in his stride.

He flinched, hearing his captor pick something up from the floor. It didn’t take too many guesses for Harry to presume what.

“Open up, pretty boy.” Hunter ordered gruffly.

“No thanks. I don’t swing for your team, mate. Ask your mum or better yet, Em -mmrf…” Harry tried jerking his head back, but Hunter easily followed him; forcing his face into the mattress. The platelet felt extra snug against his mouth. His captor was pissed, unbuckling his blindfold so he could attach the muzzle to it.

“He hasn’t eaten yet.” Ang murmured, keeping her voice just above a whisper.

Hunter didn’t reply right away, latching the leather buckle around his neck, following the leather strap up across his face to the back of his head, tightening it until he heard a satisfying grunt.

The padlock went back on, trapping Harry in darkness and silence.

“He will get nothing today. No food, no water, no bathroom breaks,” Hunter stated coldly, standing up. “As for you? If you step out of line today, I will beat you within an inch of your life. I’m done with your fucking around. You will not blink without asking permission. In fact, I want you to ask before you do anything. Understood?” Hunter commanded; his teeth clenched when he saw her blink.

His fist met her cheek with no hesitation. A beautiful scream meeting his ears like a melodic song.

“Love? I can be your wish come true or I can be a complete nightmare, which version of me do you want?” He asked, bending down to pull Ang up by her hair.

She let out a small sob, not expecting his blunt reaction. Hunter had been nothing but cold to her and all Ang did was want answers.

“I’ll be good!” Her cry begged, feeling her ex-boyfriend release her hair. His hand wrapping around her arm instead.

Muffled grunts left Harry’s sealed mouth, barely anything escaping beneath.

“Keep going, Styles. We can work on day two without food, water or breaks.” Hunter dared, dragging Ang with him up the steps.

“We don’t have any clean clothes for him to wear, Hunter. Please reconsider being so cruel.” Ang beseeched softly; the door slamming closed, leaving Harry to himself.

He rocked his body, struggling in his bound form. Unfortunately, that only wore him out. Desperation was becoming his best friend; Harry was helpless to stop anything happening. His only hope would be Ang. She already made mention attempting to get Hunter’s gun. If she got her hands on it, she’d be able to help him.

Once he got it in his possession – Emory would have a second asshole.

He kicked his foot back in anger and yelled as loud as his vocals could reach without fucking up his voice. Harry still liked to occasionally belt a tune in the bath, no use putting an end to his shower-singing career.

Silencing his panic, he swallowed his pooling saliva; biting down hard on the knot. Harry would be damned if he was laying in his own waste all day. Determination gripped him, forcing logical thoughts to push the panic away.

He slowly untensed himself, taking note of what he had free.

Not much. His hands were chained behind him – but is legs were free.

Harry paused, an idea coming together in his head. If he could bring his arms through his legs to get them in the front, then he’d be able to grab a –

His jaw clenched tighter against his gag. The poor bloke couldn’t see; let alone talk. He’d have to rely on Ang to take his chains off.

Still, he’d be more comfortable with his hands in front. The problem was jump roping his arms under his butt and looping his legs through. If Harry was double jointed – no problem. Unfortunately, with how long his arms were, they were also stiff.

“Mnmhm.” Harry swore. Whatever that meant, but there was just something determined in his quest to be comfortable.

He shimmed his arms under him, curling his legs up ever so slightly in air, trying to get enough momentum in his thrust to bend forward. He grunted another insult to his captors, throwing his hips up the same time crunching inward.

Harry could have celebrated when he got his wrists under his butt. Thank God Louis made him attend a few yoga classes. It came into handy. He thought it was completely stupid, but he might attend them on a daily bases; once he got out of his predicament.

Being extremely careful, he looped his giraffe legs through his arms, successfully achieving comfort. Two weeks with his hands behind him; Harry would rather be locked in a prison cell.

Racket from upstairs caught his attention.

The sound of a gun firing. His interest piqued, tuning in to listen.

“Ang! Put the fucking gun down!” Hunter yelled, another shot firing somewhere close. “Don’t be stupid! You don’t know how to fire it!”

“Wanna bet, cunt-flap? Hm? My dad showed me and I imagine IF I fired it right now, I’d blow a hole in your head the size of California, but sure; I don’t know how to use one.” Ang mocked, deathly calm.

Harry would be afraid if she wasn’t already on his team.

“Ang – “Emory butted in, also tranquil. “Give Hunter the gun, we’ll go for a nice drive into town; have a day trip, yeah? Come on, babe. You don’t want to do this.” He reasoned bored, sighing. It almost sounded like an exasperated parent trying to barter a deal with a child.

Silence.

A bullet flew through the basement door, landing in the wall.

“Don’t anyone move. I got three bullets and four very naughty boys here in need of a slug up their arses. What say you, bilge rats?!” Ang challenged, making Harry furrow his brows down.

She must have been reading a pirate story, before managing to steal Hunter’s gun. That explains the strange insult.

“I think Ang needs to lay off the pirate foreplay at night. That’s what I think.” Emory snorted, followed by another pause. “Don’t you –“

BANG!

A body hit full force into the door.

“Three left. Andre? Emory? Hunter? Why don’t we continue this conversation downstairs?” Ang suggested, her tone relaxed.

“I don’t fucking think so!” Emory exclaimed; his voice high with terror.

Harry heard Ang breech her weapon.

“I just killed Dante, without blinking an eye mind you. I think it would be in everyone’s best interest to heed my friendly suggestion.” Ang hummed; the smirk evident.

Harry chuckled, stopping when it became muffled by the gag. He could feel the collar restrict his head, laboring his breath. The exertion he used had taken a toll, he hoped Ang would release him so he could get everything under control.

The door opened above, a limp body could be heard clearly falling down the steps, each thump painful to listen to. Harry cringed; Dante’s cadaver landing in a heap at the bottom.

Thank God for the blindfold.

Harry thought to himself, listening to the rest of the occupants enter.

“Couch. NOW! One false move and I’ll – “ Ang let the threat hang.

Three pairs of feet headed to the couch; one came over to him. Without a word, she took the pin from her hair and set to work on releasing Harry.

He was relieved he didn’t have to stay in that position any longer. Unfortunately, he was going to have to get everyone under control; Ang included.

A click signaled his gag and blindfold were unlocked. A second later, he felt the cuffs release.

Shaking his wrists out, Harry went to rip his face restraints off. When his sight returned, though somewhat blurrily; he reached under his mattress to grip the handle of the knife Ang had entrusted him with.

A look of surprise passed Hunter’s face.

“How did –“ He fell silent when Ang pointed her piece directly point blank at his head.

“I gave it to him, because obviously; I figured out who the real assholes are. Don’t get me wrong, Harry is still a British twat. More so then I care to admit, but it’s somewhat endearing,” Ang explained, making Harry smirk. “Unlike you all, who seem to get a kick out of Hunter forcing me to strip to my underclothes. He’s at least got the decency not to gawk.”

Harry’s brow rose up in amusement. He had been called many things, but a British twat was a new one to him. He’d have to ask Louis about that, when he got back to California.

“I find you endearing too, lass. As for looking? You do have a nice arse, but my mum always told me it wasn’t polite to stare,” Harry replied, loving the murderous scowl passing over Hunter’s face. “Relax, Hunt; I didn’t have to corrupt your beautiful bird. She has a brain, she used it. Next time, don’t be such a cock stain.”

Hunter stood up, ready to beat the British man to a pulp. Ang aimed at his leg, pulling the trigger.

The bullet left with a deafening BANG, making him crash back on the couch in blinding pain. A loud agonizing scream leaving his mouth. The bullet had struck his kneecap.

“I warned you to sit down!” She yelled over him, watching Harry stand up. “You want to do the honors?” She nodded to his discarded restraints.

Harry could make use of all three on Emory, but the gag would need washed first. He stood, grabbing the cuffs, handing them off to Ang.

“Actually, I’ll cover you.” He insisted, nodding toward the gun in her hand; inwardly cringing when he saw Dante’s mangled corpse.

Ang shrugged, giving Harry the gun with full trust. She went to retrieve the tape nearby they had used to secure Harry’s feet up. This time though, it wasn’t the Cheshire man that had anything to worry about.

“If you even blink wrong; I will shoot you between the eyes.” Harry growled, watching Emory’s fist clench at his side.

Ang trusted the hostage to act accordingly should anyone try anything. Harry had a trigger finger and he was dying to use it to shoot someone.

“You’re making a terrible mistake.” Emory insisted urgently, his eyes bordering panic, watching Hunter grip his knee in agony, biting a deep gash into his lip to stop the pathetic groans from escaping his mouth.

“You made one, when you didn’t stop HIM –“ She pointed at Hunter. “From forcing me to strip! You laughed! You haven’t told me what’s going on; I had to get half of it from the British cunt-flap over there!” Her voice escalated, shivering anger racking her body.

Emory blinked slow, clearly not taking that as detrimental.

Harry followed Emory’s lack of reaction with a wider smirk, loving the girl’s charisma.

“Your boyfriend, your problem.” He answered, flinching when she forced his hands behind his back and cuffed them tight.

“Well, now it’s not! I’m going! Harry can do whatever he wants to do with you lot! If he feels compelled, there’s a strap-on in Hunter’s bag!” Ang turned to find a mildly disturbed looking Harry. “Feel free to shove it up one of their asses and superglue it in! Superglue is in the kitchen, under the sink.” She added helpfully.

Harry was no longer amused.

Not because what the girl said wasn’t funny. It was, it’s just that…her leaving wasn’t part of his plan. Maybe she changed her mind or had missed the part she told him she was leaving. He couldn’t quite recall.

Still, he had to be careful not to shift their dynamics.

“I thought we were going on a road trip back to California together? Don’t tell me you’re skipping?” Harry pretended to sound disappointed.

Ang shrugged.

“I think it best if I’m not any more involved tha – AAH!” Her sentence cut short when Andre’s fist snapped forward, stabbing the ketamine into her neck.

She stumbled back onto the ground, allowing Harry to pull the trigger; hitting its mark in a splatter of brain pulp and blood. Andre’s body, slumping back against the copper dripping leather.

Hunter jumped, but Harry decided not to give him a chance. Instead, another bullet left its home; making a tunnel right into Hunter’s chest. The man’s face as he registered the outlines of his own death was almost a comedic justice. Harry looked him right in the eye, savoring Hunter’s soul leaving him. His eyes grew dim, until the light faded out altogether.

Ang laid limp; her arm outstretched, her hand atop the tape she intended to use.

Harry hummed, walking to Emory and crouching down, pushing forward with his palms on the other man’s knees. His dark green eyes mere inches from Emory’s schoolboy blue ones. They were filled with a satisfying fear, making the Cheshire native wither in ecstasy.

“And then – “Harry chuckled, leaning in so their noses almost touched. “There was one.” He finished with a sinister whisper.


End file.
